


Lost in Mine, Giving it to You

by ababadaboop



Series: That Escalated Quickly [13]
Category: Original Work
Genre: AKA, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Because I can, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fantasizing, Hickeys, Hidden Talents, Love Bites, Moaning, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, There's A Tag For That, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, and come in general, huh wouldja look at that, note: some of these tags are minor or only mentioned, sexual competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ababadaboop/pseuds/ababadaboop
Summary: "and suddenly... there he was. Shirtless, gorgeous, right in front of her and making her mouth go dry."Alex takes off his shirt while lounging on the couch - not meaning anything by it - and Mal gets alittledistracted by her gorgeous boyfriend





	Lost in Mine, Giving it to You

**Author's Note:**

> the title sounds philisophical but the missing/implied word is head  
> have fun ;)  
> also i wrote this without any specific plan but yes alex is trans and it's up to you what parts of things are fantasy or real and all that; i don't even know, myself. let your imagination go wild!

Alex crossed his arms over his stomach, grabbed the hem on each side, and - before Mal even had a chance to protest - easily pulled his shirt right over his head. His small breasts fell free of the fabric, and suddenly... there he was. Shirtless, gorgeous, right in front of her and making her mouth go dry. As he leaned back on the couch, seeming not to notice her stare, she took in the sight. The way his hip bones poked out from the elastic of his boxers, (not even boxer briefs, loose boxer shorts she knew from experience could be reached right under and -) now the only clothing he wore, made her shiver. His stomach rose and fell with his even breathing (unlike hers, she could feel every little catch and gasp in her own), that tiny bit of movement drawing her eyes to the barest happy trail he had, was so proud of. That little strip of hair always tantalized her, made her want to reach out and touch him, stroke him, caress his beautiful body (with her hands or mouth, she wasn't picky, whichever he'd allow) until her favorite sound - the moan he gave up alongside his control - escaped.

Not that giving up control meant he would submit, oh no, he would growl and bite her lip and take handfuls of her ass if he so pleased - he would let go of the decency and self control he maintained in public, and god if that didn't make her hot. When he held himself above her, a picture of command, that was when she threw her head back and let him ravish her. After she apologized the first time, he told her he liked the scratches she left down his back, and fucked her hard to make her do it again - so repeat it she would, clutch at him like her life depended on it, let her mind relinquish control of her hands as he pleasured her into a mess underneath his beautifully strong frame.

She'd spent many nights - most before they'd first had sex - fantasizing about him, the startlingly hot wet of his mouth on her most sensitive parts, his fingers buried deep inside of her - three, to the hilt, and he always knew just when to crook them or twist them just so to make sparks fly in her head until she forgot how to keep quiet when she moaned. Or, sometimes, her mind would drift to being bent over, cock rubbing harshly against something it wasn't supposed to, as he fucked her hard, just the way she liked, until he came deep inside her, then flipped her on her back and sucked her off with such tenderness - and such attention to her frenulum - that when she came it was with her whole body, back arching, muscles tight, unable to hold back the moan, and hard enough she would splatter her release all the way up her chest - sometimes on his face if he didn't move fast enough, but in her fantasy he'd always lick it right up.

He had the prettiest mouth she'd ever seen, lips thick-thin, so full on the bottom and yet with a slim cupid's bow on top. He always blushed when she told him this, licked his lips out of reflex, and then she'd lean in and kiss him until he pushed her down. Under him - the thought made her shudder - was where she felt best, felt most. His hands, weight, cock, all bearing down-in-on-around her made her thoughts float away and just absorb him as pleasure she'd never forget. When he first fucked her, really fucked her, she knew the instant he touched her that her fantasies would never compare. But he was so much better than the fantasies inside her head, anyways. In real life, he pushed her down on her stomach once, refused to tell her what he was doing, and rimmed her within an inch of her orgasm until she begged, and then he simply kept up what he'd been doing, only this time, he moaned into her, played it up, and she came in twenty seconds flat.

Moaning was always her biggest weakness - she'd go hard at the smallest sexual noise out of his mouth, even to the point where he could sigh satisfaction over his food and she'd be half hard before she could blink. Some hidden talents of his aroused her so strongly it took her breath away; he played the piano, she didn't know, and found him playing the smoothest, most seductive music she'd ever witnessed in her life. It took three measures for her to be fully hard in her slacks, and she'd practically drooled over his talent (and his hands) in secret for a long time after that. He was flexible, incredibly so, as she found when she walked in on him doing yoga. She sprang to attention before he could properly say hello, and had to make a hasty retreat. She fell in love with his voice, when she first heard it, and after a time he sang to her, slow and sultry, until she couldn't resist and put a hand down her pants and brought herself to a wonderful orgasm at his voice alone.

Alex cooked her favorite dinner on their anniversary, complete with a truly stunning desert, and she was barely able to hold off until after dinner to, as their friend put it, "screw his brains out." They'd had many a wild time together, beautifully hectic occasions of sweat and skin and loud breaths. There had also been many that were slower - one of them would sit in the other's lap, or between their legs, and they'd rock and rut together, all soft hands and whispers, until they came with each other's name on their lips. He truly was the most wonderful person she knew, whether in bed or out of it, and (in the case of bed), he was the only one she knew. He'd given her a first time of a lifetime, kissing and smiling, and that was the happiest she'd been in a long time. She counted that as their first, even though it had really only been the two of them frotting against each other, because she'd never (and suspected he hadn't either) trusted someone with her body so intimately. He never failed to pleasure her exactly how she whispered to want, in the dark of the bedroom where they first even kissed, much less considered sex.

But the sex they had, oh lord, did it blow her away. She would always snatch up the memories and store them away with her fantasies, a night of sweet making love tucked next to the thought of riding him, not touching herself, until she came twice (maybe even three times if he could coax it out of her) and in such quantity that she'd make a filthy mess on his stomach. A night of kisses as they fucked, beside it slipped the thought of his mouth, dirty in all the most delicious ways, everywhere it shouldn't be, making between her legs so slick it felt as if someone had poured water on her; so focused on pleasuring her that he took himself completely by surprise when he came, lying on his stomach, his cock pouring that little puddle out onto the sheets. A night of fun, laughing and making jokes between themselves the whole way, behind that folded a scenario: his fingers, relentless on her prostate, rubbing, teasing, outright massaging until she came without coming, a strange dry orgasm; in the same vein, his fingers pressing ruthlessly on that bundle of nerves of a gland until her cock leaked like a broken faucet, coming - dripping come until it ran down her shaft, trickled onto her balls - without an orgasm, puddling semen into a glorious mess while her cock remained unrelentingly hard.

Fantasies that he'd squeeze her cock 'til she was hard as nails, then tease and taunt her until she exploded, from her chest torn a rather strangled noise of relief. Fantasies of the rare times he would bottom for her, slicking his ass and playing up his moans until she couldn't hold back and pressed his body into the mattress with her own, hips bouncing, filthy slapping of skin on skin until he came hard and sudden, "payback" for every time he'd done that to her. Fantasies - oh god - of being made to come several times in a row, without her prostate, just a few of his fingers stroking delicately over her frenulum; she would come each time and, oversensitive, writhe and gasp and wine until he'd wrung her dry, no come left to give, and her throat ached with the shouting. Fantasies of competitions, seeing who could come first or last or make the other come before them (fingers up each other's ass especially, that tended to be wickedly incoherent), or who could last longer stroking their own cock while the other dirty talked them into oblivion.

His dirty talk, good holy god, was out of the world. He could craft wickedly vivid scenes, speaking into existence pleasures far greater than any her imagination had to offer; if she was lucky she'd convince him to lose that barrier, that little layer of shy he sometimes kept even when describing how he'd fuck her, and then he'd nearly literally fuck her with his words, pour excruciatingly wonderful detail into exactly what his fingers would do, and so much more; so much more than the typical "yeah, you like that when I fuck you?" routine. Sometimes, though, they'd discover kinks that way, when one of them let slip a thoughtless phrase only to find the other moaning at the mere concept: "You want me to stuff you with my come?"

"Do you want me to call you filthy, call you mine?"

"Who knew someone could look so beautiful with their cock in my ass?"

"What if I fucked you until you lost your voice from moaning at how fucking good I made you feel?"

"Take it, take my cock, I want you to feel this into next week, remember me this deep inside of you."

"I'm going to hook those gorgeous legs over my shoulders and finger you until you cry."

"Lick me. Lick me until I'm moaning your name, until I can't think or speak or see straight, lick me so good like I know damn well you can."

"You've already fucked me six ways to sunday and still you haven't come, what do you want, to mark me?" (That one had, in fact, made her come hard, all over him. He looked so smug, and she just had to lick up her own come to get him back. Who knew he could get hard again so quickly?)

"I'm going to fucking claim you, mount you like a goddamn animal and bite you, leave hickeys on your gorgeous neck for everyone to see. Everyone."

"Do you think Vira knows you told me you want to fuck in their bed? Why would you want to do that, anyways? You'd practically be asking to get caught. what, is that what you want? For someone to walk in on you fucking me like I'm all that matters in the world? I see how you look at me."

"You know, you can stop staring at me, come over here, and actually touch me any time now." Shit, but that one sounded good. Probably because that one, she'd just heard, but wh- Oh, fuck.

Oops. That one, Alex had said - the real Alex, right in front of her. He sees her eyes focus, brilliant red rise in her cheeks, and smirks. "Having a good time?" Mal realizes with a start that she's hard and aching, leaking against her too-tight underwear, just as he reaches over to grab her bulge. "Cause hot damn, it sure looks like it." He slides closer to her, pupils blown wide and a sultry look in his eyes. He swings a leg over hers, settles down to grind in her lap, and brings his face close enough to hers she feels his words on her lips. His voice is a low, heavy whisper. "And wouldn't I hate to miss out on that."


End file.
